


Chasing the Sun

by wbh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, Bottom Dean Winchester, M/M, Mild Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Outdoor Sex, Outlaw!Dean, Sheriff!Castiel, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 10:45:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6851557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wbh/pseuds/wbh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheriff Castiel Novak is thinking seriously about early retirement, but he couldn't pass up one final chance to bring the infamous Winchester gang to justice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> In response to this post at the kinkmeme: http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/110195.html?thread=41177971#t41177971  
> Also a little inspired by the fact that I recently started watching Deadwood.

The town looked like every other small, ramshackle frontier town he’d been posted to over the years. Buildings put up too quickly, newcomers unprepared for what the winter would bring, bright-eyed young folks hoping to make their fortune walking down muddy streets alongside world-weary shopkeeps who’d been out West long enough to know life’s troubles found a man here as surely as they did back East.  And there he was among them all: Castiel Novak, long time frontier lawman and new Sheriff of Fair Landing, in the Wyoming Territory.

Castiel sighed as he walked down the town’s fairly new streets, trying to avoid eye contact with the townsfolk he passed. He’d been here a week. He was already known as the New Sheriff. One to be avoided at that, thanks to his fearsome reputation. Castiel’d come to Fair Landing because the ranchers outside of town had sent out a cry for help after spotting an infamous group of outlaws operating near their land. Or so they said. Castiel wasn’t convinced. Outlaws there may still be, but as the law and civilization crept further west, Castiel saw them less and less. He owed his own reputation to how many of them he’d brought to justice himself, had earned himself the moniker of Avenging Angel from his fellow lawmen over the years. He suspected, though, that some of the more infamous outlaws were growing as weary of it as he was becoming. They must know their time running free out in the territories was coming to a close. And with that as the unavoidable truth, Castiel couldn’t imagine the Winchester gang was still operating in even the Wyoming Territory.

The Winchesters. Samuel and Dean, brothers in crime, and their loyal followers. He’d only heard whispers of them in all his years as a sheriff in many different frontier towns. He’d only been close enough to their activities to go after them himself a few times, but he’d never even come close to catching them. He’d seen the wanted posters in almost every jail he’d ever worked in. Dean Winchester’s face especially was burned into his brain. Even in a drawing, his eyes looked defiant, and almost like they were taunting him. Daring Castiel to go after him. He was the ultimate challenge, the ultimate outlaw, Castiel’s white whale.

So it would be a hell of a thing, really, if the Winchester gang was operating out here, of all places. Castiel hadn’t heard of any of their exploits in over a year. He’d been sure they’d finally gone to ground and used all their ill-gotten money to settle down out in California. The ranchers out here had most likely used the name to lure someone like him to their town. He’d do a better job catching these cattle rustlers than any other small-town sheriff, and the ranchers probably knew that.

He was more and more convinced it might be time to retire himself. Go further west, set up a shop or something on the coast. Stop chasing phantoms. And it was those thoughts tumbling around his brain that made him slightly less enthusiastic than he once might have been when, upon his return to the sheriff’s office, he found one of Michael Thornton’s ranch hands waiting for him. The man frantic, but Castiel couldn’t muster up much energy about the situation himself. The ranch hand insisted that he make his way to Thornton’s land as soon as possible. The rustlers, apparently, had resurfaced and were in the act of making off with the rancher’s cattle.

* * *

 

Some of Castiel’s world-weariness had fallen away by the time he was riding down the two cattle rustlers who’d tried to make off with Thornton’s steers. The chase had always been exhilarating to him. The wind rushing by as the powerful horse moved beneath him and he rode down criminals who’d gotten on the wrong lawman’s bad side. He’d made it in to the cattle pen in enough time that they hadn’t even been able to take any of the animals with them, and were fleeing with nothing to show for their trouble. Still, Castiel was determined to catch them and put an end to this nonsense. He could see even from a distance that neither of the men were either Winchester brother. One was too dark of skin and the other too broad. They could conceivably still be part of the Winchester gang, but Castiel was more convinced than ever that he’d come to Wyoming chasing a ghost. He would bring these lowlifes in, and then finally leave the business of justice to other men. Hunting down whispers of famous outlaws who’d eluded capture was no way to spend the rest of his life, and this was Castiel’s chance to get out of the game. Like a wake-up call, a sign to move on with his life.

As the riders approached the mouth of a canyon, Castiel heard a gunshot ring out. He ducked reflexively, but he wasn’t sure where the shot had come from. He was close enough to the riders to see that neither of them had turned around, and shooting at that distance from horseback would have been foolish anyway.

Instead, he looked up at the ridge above the canyon, hoping to see movement that would let him know where the shooter was. Luck wasn’t with him though, because another shot rang out, and Castiel felt a sting in his arm.

He knew a graze when he felt one. It hurt like hell, and it would bleed like hell, but in all likelihood it wouldn’t kill him. He’d have been ready and able to keep going, if the shot hadn’t spooked his horse.

She slowed and refused to follow his commands, crying out and rearing up in fear. Castiel was a good rider, but even the best couldn’t avoid being thrown from a horse this frightened.

Castiel fell hard on his back, and a large rock on the ground connected with the side of his skull. Hot blood started streaming onto his face almost immediately. He groaned in pain, trying to see where the horse had gone and avoid her trampling hooves. She must have taken off in another direction, because he couldn’t hear her near him. He likewise couldn’t make it to his feet. His limbs all felt unbearably heavy, and he managed only to roll onto his stomach feebly, his head still ringing and his vision fading in an out. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, struggling to stay conscious and pull himself to his feet, but after a time he heard voices and saw boots rushing toward him. This was very bad. The only men in the area were the ones he’d been chasing, and the one who’d shot him from the ridge. He tried once more to push himself upright, but the effort made his head swim and his thoughts faded from him completely.

* * *

 

When Castiel fully woke, he wasn’t sure he’d really slept. He knew he hadn’t been killed out by the canyon, but what had followed after was unclear and disjointed. He had a vague memory of being carried, slung over a horse. Of the blood drying on his skin, and then being washed away with cool water. He opened his eyes. It was night. He was lying on his back, gazing up at a sea of stars. He was near a fire, covered by a blanket. His boots and jacket were gone.

Castiel lifted a hand slowly, reaching gently toward the wound on his head. He felt no blood, but winced as he touched the tender area near his temple.

“I wouldn’t touch that, if I were you. Looks awful,” said a voice to Cas’s left.

Cas turned toward the voice and sat up as quickly as he could. His head throbbed and his back ached but he struggled up just the same. There, sitting next to Castiel and poking at the fire with a long stick, was Dean Winchester.

He wasn’t what Cas had expected, from his wanted picture. That had been just a sketch, to be fair, but the Dean Winchester sitting next to him was solid and real. And when he turned to look at Castiel, the lopsided smile on his face and mischievous twinkle in his eye put the picture’s version of him to shame.

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel said. “Your wanted poster doesn’t do you justice.” Castiel almost immediately regretted saying that. The man was a criminal, one Castiel himself had dreamed of taking in for years. But here Castiel was, lying by the man’s fire, unharmed. That certainly mucked things up enough for him to want a better read on the situation. Winchester was the kind of man who, by rights, should have done away with him or left him for dead. Cas was stalling, that was all. He absolutely wasn’t drowning in an outlaw’s bright green eyes.

“That’s what I keep telling Sammy - it’s not even a good picture!” Dean exclaimed, taking Castiel’s conversation starter in stride. Like he was unconcerned with the now-conscious lawman at his fire. Like he didn’t know that Castiel was the sheriff who just hours ago had been chasing after cattle rustlers who could only be members of his gang.

Castiel decided to get straight to the point. “Where am I? You moved me, after my horse threw me.” He felt where the bullet had grazed his arm, finding a neatly wrapped and clean white bandage under his shirt. “You patched me up.”

“You’re at our camp,” Dean answered, only adding to Castiel’s confusion. “Well, on the fringes anyway. Victor wasn’t too keen on having you near everyone, so I made a compromise with him. He’s still sore you interrupted him and Benny from their big score. Your horse is fine, by the way – she’s over there.”

Castiel looked in the direction Dean was pointing to see his horse was indeed standing on the other side of the fire, looking calm, and hobbled for the night. None of that really answered Castiel’s bigger questions. It only raised a few more.

He decided to be blunt again. “Why’d you try to save me? You were the ones shooting at me.”  
“ _I_ didn’t shoot you,” Dean insisted, sounding strangely affronted. “That was Charlie. And I decided to have Sammy patch you up when I realized it was you. I remember you, you know. From that time you almost caught us outside Kansas City.”

Castiel remembered that too, but he remembered it very differently. That was years ago. It was the riskiest job the Winchesters had ever pulled, robbing a train close to what counted as a major city out in the territories. But he hadn’t ‘almost caught’ them. He’d missed them, by over an hour, he thought, and he hadn’t even seen them.

“You saw me, then? I didn’t know you’d stuck around,” he admitted.

“Sure did,” Dean replied, still smiling. “No lawman ever got closer. I even asked around and found out your name: Sheriff Castiel Novak. Always admired you, after that. Didn’t know you were still chasing us, but look how close you got, again!”

“I didn’t think you were really out here,” Castiel admitted. “Thought I was chasing whispers and rumors. Kept telling myself I would have done better to pack it in and retire.” This whole situation was incredibly surreal. Here Castiel was, nearly done-in by cattle rustlers and outlaws like many a lawman before him, but instead of death he’d been met with aid, medicine, and a surprisingly pleasant conversation. What in hell was Winchester after?

“Guess it’s a good thing you didn’t listen to yourself,” Dean said. “Otherwise, we never would have finally met.”

“I can’t imagine why you’re so pleased about that,” Castiel shot back, smiling a little against all his better judgment and being drawn into Dean’s banter.

“Well, you ain’t going to _catch_ us,” Dean replied, sounding very sure of himself. “You wouldn’t want to, would you? That’d be your last job done, and despite what you’ve been telling yourself, I don’t think you’re ready to call it quits just yet.”

“Not to mention right now I appear to be vastly outnumbered, in unfamiliar terrain, and completely at your mercy,” Castiel noted grimly, finally taking in his surroundings fully, and the several other campfires just a short distance from Dean’s.

“Well, I’m not taking too many chances,” Dean replied, smiling softly. “But you ain’t in danger here, Sheriff. I think too fondly on you to want you out of the picture. And I suspect if you were honest with yourself, you’d know you think the same about me.”

And the longer Castiel gazed at Dean’s roguish good looks, found himself drawn into his oddly comforting conversation, he feared Dean was right about that. Cas wouldn’t be able to bring in his white whale. Not after meeting him and discovering he liked the man, all in an astonishingly short time. Especially not now that he owed him a debt. He was growing tired of this whole world anyway – what would it really matter, in the end, if he let one of the last true outlaws fade away with his legend in tact?

“Winchesters are cattle rustlers now?” Castiel asked, finally smiling and relaxing fully for the first time, for some reason at ease and assured of Dean’s honesty regarding his health. “Quite a step down from your train-robbing days.”

Dean looked slightly affronted, but chuckled lightheartedly all the same. “Well, life out here can’t always be like a Pinkerton novel. I’m sure I don’t need to tell _you_ that.”

Castiel was about to agree, but they were interrupted as two people approached Dean’s fire, putting Cas on his guard. Dean might be interested in protecting him and keeping him alive, but Cas had no illusions that feeling would extend to the rest of his gang.

As the two figures stepped into the light of the fire, Castiel was surprised to see that one was very clearly a woman, and she was wearing men’s clothing to boot. She had bright red hair, a pistol strapped to her hip, and was carrying a cook pot and two wooden bowls. The man with her was one of the tallest Castiel had ever seen in his life. Cas recognized him from his wanted poster: Samuel Winchester.

The woman smiled at Dean. “Thought you two might want supper,” she told him, holding up the cook pot as evidence. “Benny made stew.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” Dean said, and ladled himself a bowel when she set the pot on the ground. Castiel felt himself flush with embarrassment. She’d shot him. Charlie was a woman. She’d shot him and spooked his horse, and was the reason he was stuck in this outlaw camp on sufferance.

Charlie turned to look at Castiel. “Sorry ‘bout the,” she mimed shooting with her finger, and had the grace to look a little abashed.

“It was just a graze,” Castiel replied, trying to maintain some of his dignity.

“Even so,” she said, glancing sideways at Dean. “Dean wasn’t too happy with me when he saw it was you.”

Castiel didn’t know what to say to that. He was still not sure what to do with the information that Dean had apparently known about and been fond of him for years. They’d been circling each other, never really with anger or malice at all, and Castiel hadn’t even known it.

Samuel cleared his throat, “If you’ll let me, I could take a look at that head wound of yours, Sheriff. Looked nasty, but scalps always bleed pretty bad. Should check though, because you were out of it for so long.”

“Alright,” Cas said cautiously, looking sideways at Dean for some reassurance that was really what his brother wanted. Dean looked unfazed. “Perhaps under the circumstances you should call me Castiel.”

Dean smiled at the informality. “Sammy here studied with a surgeon back east before we headed out here to make our less-than-legitimate fortune. You’re in good hands, Cas.”

“Sam, not Sammy, Dean,” Sam shot back absently as he approached Cas and started prodding gently at his wound. “You’re awake, so you should recover fully lawman – uh, Castiel.” Sam said after a few moments. “Everything looks alright. That’s what you wanted, right Dean?” Sam asked his brother.

“Like you’d want to give up our greatest adversary any more than me, Sam!” Dean replied. “Life wouldn’t be nearly as fun without Castiel out there hunting us down.”

“Fun,” said Sam softly. “Right.” He turned to Cas. “You still intent on hunting us down out here?”

Castiel didn’t answer right away. He wasn’t really sure anymore. Part of him didn’t want to test Dean’s interest in him, if it was really just the thrill of Sheriff Novak chasing him that had inspired Dean to spare him. But another part of him was sinking deeper and deeper into that discontent with his own role in life that had hung over him since he’d moved here to Wyoming. That part was keen to let this all go, let the Winchesters take their pick from the fat-cat ranchers who’d thought they could order Castiel’s whole life. Who thought they owned him, and owned the law with him. That part won out. So he responded, “I owe you a debt now. And I owe nothing to the fancy, upstart ranchers in these parts. So no, I don’t think I’ll try too hard to bring you down.”

Dean smiled and raised his eyebrows at Sam. Charlie smiled at Cas and handed him a bowel of stew. And Castiel felt strangely content. 

* * *

 

Cas slept at the Winchester camp that night, with Dean watching over him. In the morning, Dean announced he would take Castiel back to Fair Landing. But he also didn’t want Cas to be able to tell anyone where the Wincesters were, debt owed or not. Castiel was willing to play along, not having so much pride that he was willing to push his luck after already getting out of this situation with nothing but tended injuries and a fully belly to show for it. And so Castiel cooperated when Dean blindfolded him and tied his hands in front of him. Cas found himself riding on Dean Winchester’s horse with him. Blind, his awareness sunk down to the horse underneath him and Dean’s strong arms around his waist, holding him upright. He felt the warm, hard lines of Dean’s chest against his back, felt Dean’s breath timed with his own. It was soothing in a way he didn’t want to examine too closely.

All too soon, Dean was stopping his horse, and helping Cas dismount.  He’d been leading Cas’s horse behind them on the journey, and Cas heard him doing something with her before he felt Dean’s hands on his head and in his hair removing the blindfold.

Cas was first overwhelmed with the sight of Dean’s face. His bright green eyes, and the stubble on his chin, and his soft, bowed lips. Then, Castiel took in his surroundings. He knew where he was. Right on the edge of town, but far enough away it was unlikely anyone had seen them approach. Dean untied his hands.

“Now, don’t get any funny ideas about coming after me,” Dean said, smiling softly at Cas. He spoke quietly, and leaned in close to Cas’s face. Cas felt his heartbeat quicken, and not with fear. “I do hope we’ll meet again, but maybe on more neutral ground next time, alright Sheriff?” Cas swallowed. Dean was so close he could count the freckles on his nose. Cas nodded.

“Fantastic!” Dean exclaimed, pulling away from Cas’s face so fast it left him reeling. Dean swung up into his saddle quickly, and winked down at Castiel’s dazed face. “Until we meet again, Castiel,” he said, and then wasted no time turning his horse and galloping away.

When Castiel finally tore his gaze away from the outlaw riding away into the distance, he turned his attention to his own horse. He smiled slightly. Dean had tied loose hobble ropes around her hooves. He wouldn’t have been able to follow Dean quickly, even if he had wanted to.

* * *

 

Cas wasn’t too quick to respond to reports of rustling out by the Thornton ranch, or any other ranch, after that. A debt was a debt, and he found himself more and more nostalgic for the slowly dying frontier way of life - a little more grey than black and white. Now that he’d met Dean, he found himself thinking fondly on him and his whole gang. His more practical brother, who’d studied with a doctor. Charlie, the sharp shooter. Benny and Victor, cattle rustlers and cooks he’d never actually met. And Dean himself – witty, and handsome, and so eager to know about and care for Castiel. He was fond of Dean Winchester. And he’d never been fond of Michael Thornton and his ilk. 

* * *

 

Months passed. Things around Fair Landing were mostly quiet. Cas settled disputes between ranchers, performed mundane sheriff duties around town, purposefully failed to catch the cattle rustlers, and often dreamed of finally retiring. But something kept him around, and in his job. Well, less something than someone.

He’d failed to catch the rustlers, but he hadn’t failed to see Dean again. Castiel went out for an evening ride on the outskirts of town most nights, and he’d been surprised to find Dean hidden behind a small hill and apparently waiting for him just a few weeks after their first meeting. Dean must have been watching him, to know he’d ride by there. But Cas found himself surprisingly unbothered by that. He felt no desire to pursue the outlaw, and Dean apparently had no intentions of shooting at him either. Something drew them together, something neither of them felt inclined to probe at too deeply. So they talked about themselves instead.

Castiel learned about Dean’s upbringing out east. How his mother’s death had turned his father into a drunken bastard. How Dean had convinced Sam to leave his studies for a more profitable and exciting life out in the territories. How even Dean was starting to see living outside the law wasn’t as easy as it used to be, and after they scored enough money from selling the cattle of Fair Landing he and Sam and Charlie and Benny and Victor and the whole gang were planning to call it quits and move out to California.

In return Castiel told Dean about his own upbringing in the old frontier. How he’d been just too young to fight in the war between the states, but had grown up listening to a father who held his own service in the Union army over his son’s head his whole life. How he’d joined law enforcement both to shut the man up and because he reveled in the chase and the freedom of the true frontier. How he was thinking of finally calling it quits himself, and that California did indeed sound like a fine place to retire.

It was the most Castiel had ever opened up to anyone. And as he and Dean talked, and revealed themselves, Castiel slowly realized that Dean felt for him what he felt for Dean. And after achingly slow, tentative moments of touching, of hands lingering too long, of checking to make sure Dean wanted what he did, Dean and Castiel finally kissed.

They were lying on the hillside where Cas normally met Dean when their lips finally touched. Dean’s were soft, like Cas had imagined. Dean gave a sharp intake of breath and Cas almost pulled back, but Dean surged forward to meet him, deepening the kiss and moaning low in his throat, like Cas’s mouth was a treat that had been denied him for too long.

Castiel’s thoughts reeled as he pushed back into Dean’s mouth. Just months ago, he never would have thought this would be where he’d end up: a fist tangled in Dean Winchester’s hair, pushing the other man onto his back while he moaned wantonly. But it felt right. It felt…pure.

Castiel laid himself out on top of Dean, pleased to reach down and feel Dean’s growing erection through his trousers. His own cock was straining hard against his fly, and he ground down against Dean, layers of fabric between their cocks not taking away from the pleasure of brushing their erections together.

“You done this before?” Cas asked softly, pulling his lips from Dean’s and gazing down into green eyes.

“Sure have,” Dean smirked. “What about you, lawman? Don’t tell me you’ve been going around the territories breaking the law?”

Castiel smiled back at Dean. “That was the best part about being sheriff. No one had the balls to call the sheriff out on all the buggery he engaged in on his off hours.”

Dean burst out laughing at that, laughter that he choked on when Cas unceremoniously undid his fly and tugged down his trousers to free his erection.

“Aw hell, Sheriff Novak,” Dean panted out as Cas started to stroke his cock with teasing slowness. “You’ve had more outlaw in you all this time than you let on.” Dean fumbled clumsily with Castiel’s trousers, but eventually managed to free Cas’s erection in turn.

Cas sighed with pleasure and contentment as Dean’s hand gripped his cock, stroking up and down the shaft, mirroring Cas’s actions on Dean’s prick as precome slicked both of their hands.

“I don’t suppose that almost-doctor brother of yours ever gave you something to ease the way?” Cas asked, hoping Dean had known where their relationship was going more clearly than he had.

“What, lubricant?” Dean asked with a cheeky grin. Cas tried to wipe it off his face by sliding his thumb over the head of Dean’s erection. Dean threw his head back with a moan. He managed to stick his hand into his jacket pocket, and held a small glass bottle up triumphantly. “Sam knows me well enough to get it on the regular, though he insists I don’t provide details. Always prepared, that’s me.” Castiel leaned down to kiss him to get the stupid grin off his face.

Armed with Dean’s glass bottle, Cas pulled off of Dean a bit and let go of his erection, causing Dean to grunt a little in protest. But when Cas pulled his trousers down around his ankles, he seemed entirely on board with Cas’s plans. Cas spread Dean’s legs and got a good look at his tight, gorgeous pink hole before coating his fingers with the slick from the bottle and plunging one finger and then a second inside the outlaw in quick succession.

Dean moaned with pleasure so loudly Cas feared they might attract attention before he remembered they were miles away from any homestead or grazing lands. So instead he reveled in the sounds he pulled out of Dean, plunging his fingers in and teasing Dean, opening him up enough that the man might still be able to ride home without overwhelming discomfort.

“Never thought this would be what I’d do when I finally caught up with Dean Winchester,” Cas admitted, as he pulled his fingers out of Dean’s ass and slicked up his own neglected cock.

“You didn’t?” Dean asked, sounding a little disappointed. “I always hoped we’d end up here, after I saw you back in Kansas City. Lawman, your ass was just begging for my touch.” As if to prove his point, Dean reached around and palmed Cas’s ass, pulling him closer.  Dean spread his legs wider.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not disappointed,” Cas replied. “Feel free to grab my ass as much as you want.” And with that, he took hold of his cock and sunk into Dean.

Dean’s hole opened beautifully for him, the muscle tight around his cock and Dean like a warm sheath around him. Cas panted with the overwhelming sensation once he was fully seated inside. He stayed still for a moment, willing himself not to come like a virgin before they’d even fucked. Then Dean squeezed his ass again and told him, “Move.” Cas obeyed.

Fucking Dean was a revelation. Dean let out happy, choked noises as Cas fucked into him, urging him on and rolling his eyes back into his head when Cas grabbed and started jacking his cock. Cas was in awe of the man beneath him, the stubborn, carefree outlaw who’d embraced freedom fully in a way Cas had always been chasing but too much of a coward to fully pursue. Maybe this had been what he’d been chasing, staring at Dean’s eyes on that wanted poster for all those years. Maybe, like Dean, he’d _known_. Maybe this had been what he’d wanted all along.

Dean spilled onto Cas’s hand fairly quickly, after all the teasing of his prostate Cas had done when he figured him. After Cas milked the last come out of his cock, Dean lay pliant and blissed out on the hillside as Cas continued to drive into his ass. Castiel’s own orgasm took him by surprise. He spilled inside Dean when the other man opened his eyes, and looked at him, making something strange stir in Cas’s chest. He gasped his way through his surprise orgasm, and then, limps shaking, pulled himself gently out of Dean and collapsed by his side.

They lay there panting for a few moments, not saying anything. Then, Castiel reached out and grabbed Dean’s hand. Dean closed his fingers around Castiel’s in turn.

“So,” Dean finally said when his breath returned to him. “You’re coming to California with us, right?”

Castiel turned to look at him, and smiled.


End file.
